


the one where they get sent to some small mountain town

by dudski



Series: your hamlet of eight hundred people or less [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudski/pseuds/dudski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Bones 1x04, The Man in the Bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Side A: Artemis and Wally

What happened was this: A park ranger in some no-name town found a dead bear. The local vet got called in for an autopsy. (Or, as West keeps correcting her, a _necropsy_ , but that just sounds creepy.) There was a human hand in the bear’s stomach, so the vet called in the sheriff, who called the FBI, who called DC. It’s kind of a hassle to get dragged in on something long distance when it’s not even an important case, but Artemis takes a lot of pride in the fact that nobody in the Bureau has better squints than she does.

It should have been pretty routine - show West some photos of the hand, maybe get it shipped over if he needed to see it up close and personal, get enough information about the sex, age, and history of the person the hand used to be attached to that local law enforcement could ID it.

That was the plan, at least until West noticed some marks that meant the hand had already been cut off before the bear found it.

“So what you’re telling me is that someone is stalking around the backwoods of Washington, chopping people up and feeding them to bears?”

“What? How did you get there from what I was saying? How does your mind even--”

“Pack your bags.”

“Crock, I am not going to Washington state.”

“I’ve told you before, saying it in a definitive tone like that doesn’t make it mean anything to me.”

xx

Aurora is...weird. It’s a small town, and other than hikers and nature enthusiasts, they clearly don’t see a lot of outsiders. Having an FBI agent and a forensic anthropologist in town to investigate a murder causes such a stir that people on the street are greeting them by name less than an hour after they’ve checked into the hotel.

Artemis has spent a lifetime perfecting her glares, and they’re more than enough to persuade people to keep their distance, but West grins broadly at everyone they pass, thoroughly unaware of just how predatory some of the looks he’s getting are.

“Come on,” she tells him, “I’m starving. Let’s grab some lunch.”

“That place looks nice,” he says, pointing across the street.

“Yeah, like a nice place to burn my entire per diem in an hour.”

“You have a per diem?”

“Of course I do, it’s taxpayer money, there’s always a limit. You have one too.”

“Nope. They just said to send them the receipts.”

“That is so unfair, haven’t they seen you eat?”

West grins. “My brain’s a very valuable asset to the United States government, Crock. I guess they’ll do what they have to to keep it properly fueled.”

xx

Local law enforcement is always the same. They’ll make the call to the FBI when they realize they’re out of their depth, but their desire to cooperate always ends there. What Artemis needs is for the sheriff to tell her about recent missing persons the hand could belong to; what this woman’s giving her is some condescending bullshit about how outsiders don’t appreciate how dangerous the wilderness can be.

Artemis is about to point out that it wasn’t _the wilderness_ that sawed someone’s hand off when West walks in. Falls in, more accurately, since it looks like he fights with the door to Sheriff Scutter’s office and loses.

“Sheriff Christine Scutter, Dr. Wally West,” Artemis says while West rights himself.

“My,” says the sheriff, looking him up and down, “the FBI really does get the best of everything, don’t they?”

“I really need to find the rest of that body,” West tells Artemis. “They’re doing their best with just the hand at the Jeffersonian, but anything else I can send them will be a huge help.”

“We searched the area the GPS says the bear covered,” says Scutter, “didn’t turn up anything.”

“Did you check the scat?” asks West eagerly. “It could have incredibly valuable evidence in it.”

Scutter’s momentarily thrown by his enthusiasm for bearshit, but she rallies quickly. “I could take you out along the GPS route tomorrow, see if we find anything?”

“Sure,” says Artemis. “Now you’re all about helping with our investigation.”

Scutter just gestures in West’s direction, the look on her face clearly saying _have you_ seen _him?_

Artemis needs to get out of this town before she kicks someone in the face.

xx

Of course it’s a cannibal. Why wouldn’t it be a cannibal?

“...and those tribes have a long history of cannibalism. I’ve seen this before, it’s not a big deal in some cultures,” West says.

Scutter’s eyes widen, and Artemis grins. She’ll never finish that sandwich, not after this conversation. “Have you ever...”

“I’ve never been offered human flesh before, but it’s an interesting question.”

Scutter drops the sandwich, looking a little green. Some people just don’t have what it takes to handle squints.

xx

They’re at the only bar in town, after a Skype conversation between West and Grayson that Artemis hadn’t completely followed - she heard “glug, glug, woohoo!” over the laptop’s speakers, plus something about seizing the aster? Afterwards, West was uncharacteristically set on getting a drink, and Artemis shrugged and went along, because if the attention he’d been getting over the last few days were any indication, someone would have to be there to watch his back.

He’s dancing with Scutter right now; before that it had been Dr. Randall, the vet, and Charlie the overnight delivery girl is clearly just waiting for the right moment to cut in. Artemis is getting her fair share of attention, but that’s what the glares are for. Even if she didn’t have a squint to look out for, she’s not in the mood - losing Sherman in the woods like that left her feeling foul and bitter, no matter how reasonable it was to blame Scutter’s crappy flashlight and Sherman’s home field advantage.

She just wants to enjoy a couple of beers and make sure Wally doesn’t get eaten alive, literally or otherwise. He’s dancing with Charlie, now, and between the panicked looks he keeps shooting Artemis and the fact that she can’t actually see both of Charlie’s hands, she figures that’s her cue.

“Mind if I cut in?” Charlie obviously does mind, but when it looks like she’s about to say so, Artemis clears her throat and puts a hand on her hip. If that happens to draw Charlie’s eye to the fact that Artemis is armed, well, that’s just an accident.

“Thank you,” West says enthusiastically as soon as Charlie’s out of earshot.

“It looked like you needed a break.”

“Everyone kept pumping me.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Artemis is a world-class sniper and a highly professional federal agent. She most certainly does not squawk.

“Geez, calm down, I meant they were pumping me for information. About the case? Not...ew, seriously, what did you think?”

Artemis is not answering that one. “You know they’re only pretending to be interested in the case, right? They’re hitting on you.”

“Um, no. They’re not - what? No.”

“Look around, West, do you think they get a lot of halfway attractive new faces around here?”

It’s barely even a compliment, and not even close to what she could have said, but of course he’s grinning like a fool over that. “What’s that? The one and only Agent Crock thinks I’m halfway attractive?”

She grumbles at that, but West’s clearly off in his own world now, probably thinking about the anthropological impact of new members in closed cultures, and wow, she’s been spending too much time with him.

“Hey,” he says, “if that’s so true, why didn’t you have all these lumberjack dudes after you? I mean, you’re...you know...very...”

“That’s what the gun’s for, West. Lets them know I don’t dance.”

Mercifully, he lets that one go.


	2. Side B: Everyone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's bored, Roy's Roy, Meg and Conner are stupidly into each other, and Bette keeps making deliveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Bones 1x04, The Man in the Bear.

Dick is bored.

Wally’s off on a romantic mountain getaway - ( _“oh my god Dick, don’t call it that, especially not where she can hear you”_ ) - with Crock, Conner’s off doing something disgusting with bugs, Meg keeps insisting that when she’s not actively needed for a case, she has actual patients to work with so no, she can’t just hang out with Dick, and Roy’s busy poring over the Washington photos and making distressed noises about how he can’t get anything useful from them because he’s not Wally-level brilliant.

There’s no imaging work to do for the investigation yet, and on the Jeffersonian side of things, Dick’s already made all the 3D models he can put together with the tissue markers Wally finished before he left. He’s running out of things to busy himself with when Kaldur’s around, and if he figures out that Dick has nothing to do, he’ll find a stack of paperwork to give him. That’s just not something Dick can allow.

There’s another frustrated huff from Roy’s workstation. “I can’t make any sense of these kerf marks,” he says, “not without the bones in front of me.”

“Give it a rest, Roy. Even Wally couldn’t have gotten everything he needed from that photo when he was just a grad student. You’ll get there.”

“I’m halfway through _two_ doctorates, Grayson, which is more than you can say - you don’t need to talk to me like I’m some kid.”

Great. Another “respect me, two half PhDs make a whole” tantrum. Those aren’t getting old at all.

xx

Technically, the package is for Conner. There might be eventually be something for Dick to work with, but the lucky task of sifting through bear scat for workable evidence is all Conner’s. He’s in the middle of some highly involved experiment with the jewel beetles Dick is pretty sure are just pets at this point, so Dick volunteered to wait for the delivery guy, since apparently it’s incredibly urgent that Conner get his box of shit as soon as possible.

Only it’s not the regular delivery guy with the third nostril who shows up - whoever this is, she’s tall and blonde and _gorgeous_ , and Dick’s day just got a whole lot more interesting.

“Package for Conner Kent?”

“I can sign for that,” he says, grinning and making sure to brush her fingers when she passes him the clipboard. “I can’t help but notice that you’re not Bruno.”

“Bruno won the lottery; I think he’s on an island now. I’m Bette.”

“Nice to meet you, Bette. So is it too forward if I say--”

“That you feel like you’re the one who won the lottery?” Dick nearly drops the pen in surprise, and she just smirks at him. Oh, he _likes_ her. “You wouldn’t be the first person on Bruno’s old route, or even the fifth.”

“I guess I’ll have to be more original next time,” he tells her.

“Looking forward to it,” she says, then turns and walks away, tossing a knowing smile over her shoulder as she goes.

Dick grins back and watches her all the way out. Conner’s been waiting hours for the package, a few more seconds won’t kill him.

 _Need more evidence_ , he texts Wally. _Anything, doesn’t matter what as long as you overnight it._

xx

Dick is totally firing Wally. Not texting him back is an egregious violation of the pact they made when they were twelve.

“Conner, what do you think you would bring to the table as a best friend? I’m in the market for a new one,” Dick tells him. Conner doesn’t even dignify that with a response, just raises an eyebrow at Dick before turning back to focus on his monitor and the 1000x magnification of...whatever it is, Dick doesn’t want to know.

Conner’s the quiet type. It’d be a change of pace from Wally, but Dick could adjust. Conner tends to keep to himself and he’s occasionally terrifying, but he’s very loyal and dependable, and Dick’s pretty sure that if they were best friends, Conner would definitely overnight him something if he asked instead of ignoring him completely.

He’s about to ask Conner to clarify where he stands on no-questions-asked package shipping and what his preferred pizza toppings are when Meg walks in.

“My noon appointment cancelled on me, so I brought lunch,” she says, dropping a kiss on the top of Conner’s head. “Ooh, what are you working on? I love the colors.”

“It’s a magnified image of a sporocarp after a week in bear excrement,” Conner says, tilting his head back to look up at her.

“It’s so _pretty_ ,” she says, staring at the screen.

“Yeah,” says Conner, head still tilted back, eyes on her. “It really is.”

It is simultaneously the sweetest thing Dick’s ever seen and just the tiniest bit disgusting. (He’s got nothing against Meg and Conner, but come on: bear shit fungus.)

“Special delivery,” calls Roy, striding in with a package.

Dick perks up. “Wally sent something? But he never texted me back!”

“Oh, did I not remember to tell you he called? Too bad you weren’t expecting the delivery, Bette was really disappointed you weren’t there to sign for it. I think she was into you, Grayson.”

“ _Was_?” That doesn’t sound promising. “What did you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything, man. I just covered for you.” Roy grins. “I didn’t want her to know what a slacker you are, so I let her know you were elbow deep in bear scat, hunting for evidence. We got to talking after that, I think we really hit it off.”

Dick considers this. “Nah, I’m still good. Nice try, though.”

“Come on, Grayson, even you can’t be that full of yourself--”

“Boys,” interjects Meg, “settle down. Let me get this straight: Dick, you hit on the delivery woman.”

“Of course I did.”

“And Roy, you made her think Dick was more interested in bear crap than her, and then you hit on her.”

“Well, when you put it like that--”

“But she’s _met_ Dick, right?” Megan continues, ignoring Roy. Dick and Roy both nod. “Then yes, Dick’s still good.”

Roy squawks. “What? How?”

“Look at him,” shrugs Meg. “I don’t make the rules, Roy, I just live by them.”

xx

Roy fumes silently (and not-so-silently) for the next two days, until Wally calls to say that he and Crock are overnighting one last batch of samples from the killer’s office before they come home.

“We’ll _both_ meet Bette,” says Roy, “and she can decide once and for all which one of us she’s into.”

“Fine,” shrugs Dick. He’s really not that worked up about it, but he’s had next to nothing to do all week, and he’ll take his distractions where he can until Wally gets back to liven the place up a bit. “Clipboards at dawn for Bette’s attention.”

Meg and Conner follow them to the lab’s entrance to wait. “Artemis is going to want to hear all about you two being idiots,” Meg says. Conner just shrugs and puts his arm around her waist, like they don’t already know that wherever Meg goes, he goes.

And right on schedule, in walks Bette. Dick’s unsurprised but pleased to see her light up when she spots him. He knew Roy never had a chance.

Not that that’s stopping Roy, of course. “We’d like you to decide who gets to sign for this.”

Bette raises an eyebrow. “So the idea is that whoever signs--”

“Yes, the act of signing represents--”

“She gets it, Roy,” Dick interrupts, not wanting to hear where that sentence was going.

“All right,” says Bette, giving each of them a long, considering look.

She steps forward, right up into Dick’s space.

She smiles at him and holds up the clipboard.

And then she turns and hands it to Meg and Conner.

“You know,” says Bette, “these forms actually have two signature lines on them, just in case.”

Everyone is silent. Dick glances around - Roy’s sulking, Conner is looking miraculously nonplussed, and Meg is...considering it, apparently. Wow. That is...wow.

“Thank you,” Meg says eventually, signing her name and passing the clipboard back. “That is really sweet of you.”

Bette turns to go. “See you around,” she calls back over her shoulder.

Nobody says anything for what feels like forever.

“I can’t believe she didn’t pick me,” Roy gripes, breaking the silence.

“Shut up, Roy,” says everyone in unison.


End file.
